


Weekdays and Weekends

by Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire



Category: Boyfriend Material - Alexis Hall
Genre: Boyfriends, Dick Pics of sorts, Does it count as flirting if they are already together?, Fluff, Is this what one might call tooth-rotting fluff?, Luver, M/M, Not beta’d we die like Daisy in the filing cabinet, POV First Person, POV Luc O’Donnell, Post-Canon, Sexting of sorts, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29197266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire
Summary: Oliver and I have been dating for a year now.However we haven't moved in together yet. Seemed too early, we both thought so when we talked about it. Oliver and I talk about stuff.So instead we’d spend all weekdays at mine and all weekends at his. Living separately  worked perfectly for us.Which now that I thought about it sounded a lot like we actually did live together already.Luc’s realisation about his and Oliver’s living arrangement ends with a string of text messages between the two of them.
Relationships: Oliver Blackwood/Luc O'Donnell
Comments: 20
Kudos: 65





	Weekdays and Weekends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mybluebucketofsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybluebucketofsnow/gifts).



> Dear reader, catch me abandoning all my SnowBaz obligations for Luc and Oliver.  
>   
> Jokes aside, all my deadlines are still under control so I had to write another Boyfriend Material fanfic.  
>   
>  **Blue** , this is for you. 🥺🥺🥺 I hope the fic will give you some cute fluffy feels. 💙💙💙
> 
> * * *

# Luc

Oliver and I have been dating for a year now.

However, we haven't moved in together yet. Seemed too early, we both thought so when we talked about it. Oliver and I talk about stuff.

So instead we’d spend all weekdays at mine and all weekends at his. Living separately worked perfectly for us.

Which now that I thought about it sounded a lot like we actually did live together already.

Despite all the progress I’ve made, I would still shy away sometimes from talking face to face about important topics.

It remained something scary that made my heart thump in a less than pleasant manner and I kept thinking about how I shouldn't be involving myself into anything serious or important because I’d just end up being hurt by it.

Except things were different now and I should talk more freely and let myself be more vulnerable. I knew that. And yet.

Needless to say at that moment I’ve chosen a much easier road, reached for my phone and sent: **Oliver are we living together?**

It was lunchtime so his answer came almost immediately.

Lucien, is there a reason you're asking me now, in a text, instead of waiting until I'm home in a few hours and asking me in person?

Before I got to answer that, unsure of what I was going to say exactly another message popped up.

Not that I am saying your flat is my home.

It is your flat of course and your home. I’m not being presumptuous. I am simply visiting you—my boyfriend, at said flat.

Like any boyfriend would.

Or I suppose most boyfriends would is more accurate here.

Some boyfriends would, perhaps.

Which does in no way indicate that your flat would be considered my home obviously.

I should have stopped him. But I was completely speechless even in digital form due to me currently experiencing extreme feelings and shit.

Oliver called my flat his home. Possibly because of me since his house is bigger and nicer and closer to his work.

The only thing my flat had going for it was Oliver being there five days a week with his smiles, glint of silver in his grey eyes and his arms enveloping me at night in a way that made me feel, y’know, safe, cherished and loved.

I suppose he wouldn't be there if it wasn't for me. Oliver wanted me and loved me.

_Me. Luc O’Donnell._

A year ago that would have been a completely foreign notion to me. It still was, at the rare times of deep self-doubt.

Usually you would stop me right about now.

**Usually I would**

I was trying not to get overwhelmed by my emotions and also decided to cut him some slack.

**FYI I consider my flat your home**

If anything since Oliver appeared in my life, my flat has actually become a home for me as well.

It wasn't before. Not really. My flat was just a place where I slept, cried and cursed the direction my life has taken, without making much of an effort to fix it. Thinking how it wasn't even worth trying.

Not until Oliver and I happened, that I finally came to allow myself to want something again. And suddenly I found myself wanting lots of things for myself — Oliver notwithstanding.

Thank you, Lucien.

Likewise is what I mean.

I mean I am glad and I of course consider my house your home as well.

I hope that wasn't too much.

Truthfully him all flustered was till this day one of my favourite Olivers. Even better than lost-for-words Oliver.

Nevertheless, I didn’t want him to suffer in vain.

**It wasn't. I am genuinely happy to hear that. But you’ve still not answered my question**

Although I started to think he might already have. Unless I was mistaken. But that seemed unlikely at the moment.

Which answer are you looking to hear?

**Oh no, Oliver. That’s something I would have asked you**

Would have and been terrified too, feeling utterly vulnerable with my heart ready to be broken, tramped all over.

 _Fuuuuck_. Why is Oliver terrified? Is he terrified?

He's been in therapy for the last six months. We both have. How long does it take anyway for us to get far better self-esteem?

And now that I think about it, why are we turning into each other all of a sudden?

Is it even sudden? How long has this been going on? Why haven't I noticed it before?

I took a deep breath, and decided to unpack all that at a later time when my boyfriend wasn’t freaking out. Then I quickly compiled another message.

**Oliver, if I didn't want something, I would not ask if I have it**

Alright. This might not have been the most mature answer to give. Could I have possibly been more cryptic and vague?

But it was still something. Better than I thought I was capable off at the moment, considering all these _feelings_ and deeply rooted insecurities.

You have it, came without a pause.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and grinned like an idiot. An utterly happy idiot.

We were living together. I could work with that.

Then another question emerged into my mind and I asked Oliver without giving it a second thought.

**Is there a reason for us to keep two homes then?**

I’ve almost regretted sending the text. Was that too much? Too presumptuous of me? Why am I using Oliver’s words?

I didn't have time to think about that either. One issue at a time.

Was us having two places a buffer _he_ needed? Or did he think that I needed that?

I’ve managed to wound myself into a tight emotional knot, completely unsure of what to do next and feeling slightly nauseous. Despite all the help I seem to be getting from therapy, how to boyfriend properly is continuously hard.

Not that my therapist believed that my boyfriend is who I should focus on for a while. But I was constantly bringing Oliver up regardless.

My therapist should have known what she was getting herself into when I _specifically_ told her that I'm stubborn and tend to shift focus. It's on her truly for not taking me seriously.

Predictably my heart started choking itself to death while I was waiting for Oliver’s response.

It went enough time that I was the one doing the freaking out now, but not so long that I had time to go through _all_ the possible scenarios of how he was going to dump me again.

I don't think there is one, finally lit up on my screen (possibly taking less time than I initially thought it did). Unless you feel differently.

Relief washed over me, like a warm wave at sea on a gloomy day. Or like Oliver’s arms around me on any day really.

I typed a reply, fresh butterflies filling my stomach.

**Okay**

Not even a second later a message appeared: Okay.

I didn't send him a heart.

Fine, you’ve caught me. I did. I am disgustingly in love and don't even have it in me to be ashamed of that anymore.

My consolation prize is that Oliver sent me a heart back. We could be embarrassing together.

Not that there was anyone around to see or to judge.

**Does this mean there won't be any more dick pics since we’re going to live together at one place?**

He sent me an image of Ringo Starr.

I’ve started to suspect a while ago that Oliver has made substantial research into all the Dicks of England.

After all, they sure came in fairly quickly when he needed them to. Couldn't be a coincidence.

Besides, Oliver loves him some good research. My boyfriend is very _thorough_ in each aspect of his life, no exceptions.

I felt myself blush at the memory, and was thanking my lucky star that it was Friday and we were not going to be in any hurry to go early to bed. To sleep is what I mean.

I was in fact planning for us to go to bed as early as possible for other reasons.

 **Nice Dick** , I answered and smiled. **Does this mean you actually believe John Lennon is overrated?**

Oh I am not sure I want to gain a reputation of being too opinionated on every subject known to men.

Even though I knew he was joking, I couldn't let it go.

**What a shame. As it happens that was the reason I wanted you to be my boyfriend, for your constant day and night flow of opinions**

And here I thought it was the V-cut.

**That's where you're wrong, Oliver. The V-cut is just a bonus. I’d get rid of it anytime and spend the rest of my life with your opinions instead**

Oliver wasn’t answering and I started to worry that I went too far.

I did genuinely mean what I said. It's not how he looked under his conservative suits that got my heart fluttering back then and made me want to be someone whom Oliver would choose.

It's _him_ — the kind, considerate and complicated know-it-all, I couldn't help but fall in love with. I loved him and all of his quirks.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said “the rest of my life” though. That might have been a mistake. Clearly way too soon for that kind of declarations.

I was about to type out something to make the damp on our conservation go away when a reply came. No words, but an image of his V-cut, partially obscured by his trousers.

I almost dropped my phone from the shock and thrill of it all.

Granted, it wasn't a dick pic but to Oliver it might as well have been.

Knowing my boyfriend, this could only mean one thing. He was letting me know he trusts me fully, and I think, maybe that he's _all in_.

How does one respond to that exactly?

**Fuck...**

Oh?

I could almost hear him, could imagine the silver in his eyes mixed with grey when he went all soft and a tad self-conscious.

**Deciding we're living together sounds grand**

**And on a completely unrelated topic, I am going to lick you as soon as you’re home**

How unrelated of a topic that was might be up for a debate. My boyfriend just sent me an actual equivalent of a dick pic where he was concerned.

And here I thought we were having dinner first.

God, I maybe was very much into how smug he could be.

**Tonight’s menu only offers dessert before dinner**

**TAKE it or LEAVE it**

Lucien, you needn’t worry about that, I am going to take you thoroughly.

_Double fuck._ I was hardly able to breathe, I loved it when Oliver talked dirty.

**At whose home are we staying tonight? Just wondering in case one might need to prepare for the occasion of…dessert**

I didn't even try to play it cool. It turned out that ship had sailed the day I went on the first date with Oliver.

The reason I had to ask about the location of our whereabouts for tonight was that I wasn't completely sure what our new living arrangement entailed.

Although presumably, we are sticking to our prior schedule until we move all our stuff to one place.

At ours.

That hasn't exactly answered my question.

While Oliver was still on a lunch break, I rang him up.

“Sorry to call unexpectedly,” I used his own words against him while keeping a straight face, “I was just wondering what you're wearing, or y’know...not wearing.”

I could hear him blush over the phone.

“I suppose if you’re good you’ll find out tonight.”

“And what if I am _bad_ , oh so very bad?”

He let out a soft growl.

“That would be...agreeable,” said Oliver after, his voice had gone all stern and a pleasant shiver went through my body.

We talked a little longer, and I did my best to insinuate the most filthy things I could think off. Well, not filthy per se, but most definitely x-rated.

“Lucien,” he sounded serious all of a sudden and I didn't even panic. I guess that's was true progress looked like. “I am truly sorry but I have to cut my lunch short today.”

“Not a problem. Good luck. I’ll see you at home.” The words were coming easy and filling me with newfound warmth. “Which just to be clear, we _are_ staying in Clerkenwell this weekend like we always do?”

“Yes. See you at home, love.”

I smiled at my phone experiencing this wholesome feeling that we've accomplished something extraordinary today for our relationship, without even trying to.

Is that what true adulthood was all about? Doing things right, without any thought or reason and still making it work?

Or I suppose mutual trust, time and putting in a genuine effort might have had something to do with that too.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 💙


End file.
